It's Not a Date

by Heather Blackmore

  When they arrived at Edna’s, Jen introduced Kade to Doreen, who was in the kitchen. Nana was sitting in her lounger, watching TV. Jen approached from an angle, seemingly so as not to startle her. “Hi, Nana,” Jen said as she took her hand.

  Nana turned her attention to Jen, and her features softened. She smiled warmly. “Hello, sweetheart.” Kade wasn’t sure what to expect, but visions of Jen’s grandmother wearing a pink polyester robe and slippers flew out the window. This woman was dressed in tan slacks and a black-and-brown argyle sweater, her short gray hair was stiff from hair spray, she wore several bracelets and a necklace, and she had a modest amount of makeup on. Stylish wasn’t a word Kade would have normally associated with a person with dementia, but she was learning. The thought struck Kade that the simple act of readying herself for the day was probably important for Edna in maintaining a sense of normalcy and independence, much the same as trying to extend the amount of time she could live in her own house.

  Jen bent down and kissed her cheek. “Nana, may I introduce you to someone?”

  Nana sat forward and started to push herself up, using the armrests for leverage. She moved with difficulty, and her arms shook as she rose from the chair. Kade was surprised Jen didn’t try to dissuade her from getting up, but she realized Edna would likely be most comfortable greeting strangers from a standing position. Jen positioned herself behind her, ready to help if needed.

  Once Edna stood, Jen moved between them and extended her hand to indicate that Kade draw nearer. “Nana, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Kade Davenport. Kade, this is my grandmother, Edna Spencer.”

  Edna offered her hand to Kade and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Kade.”

  They shook hands. “Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Spencer.”

  Edna shooed away the greeting with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense. Mrs. Spencer sounds like an old lady. Please call me Edna.”

  Kade immediately liked her. “Edna,” she said with a nod.

  Turning to her granddaughter, Edna said, “Are you staying for lunch?”

  With a questioning brow, Jen eyed Kade. Kade gave her a “whatever you want to do” shrug. “Sure, Nana. We’d love to, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Edna waved her hand again. “Don’t be silly. Doreen and I will whip up something.”

  Edna took Jen’s arm and headed into the kitchen. As Kade followed, Jen said, “Whatever you two are making smells terrific.”

  Edna furrowed her brow. “We’re not making anything.”

  Doreen was stirring something in a Crock-Pot and glanced up with a smile. “The sesame chicken is ready, and there’s plenty. We’ve also got rice and broccoli.”

  Edna kept her eyes on the pot as if trying to process this information.

  “We decided to use the slow-cooker today, which we usually don’t do.” Though Doreen said this to Jen and Kade, Kade thought it likely that Doreen added this comment to help jog Edna’s memory. “Edna, why don’t you attend to your guests while I serve?”

  Seemingly confused, Edna stared at the counter.

  Jen jumped in by opening the refrigerator and peering in. “Nana, it looks like you’ve got iced tea. I wouldn’t mind a glass.” She pulled out the pitcher. “Would you like some? We can drink it in the family room until lunch is ready.”

  Edna nodded slowly at first, then seemed to put on a cheerful expression that conflicted with her physicality. “Yes, sweetie, thank you.” She turned to Kade and extended her hand. “Hi. Edna Spencer. And you are?”

  Dismissing the immediate thought that Edna was joking, Kade flicked her eyes to Jen for some sign of what to do. Jen’s expression was apologetic. Taking the cue from Edna’s term of endearment for Jen, Kade leveraged their relationship so that she was something of a known entity instead of a complete stranger. She didn’t want Edna to feel that her personal space was being violated. “Hi, Mrs. Spencer. I’m Kade Davenport, a friend of Jen’s,” she said as she shook hands.

  “Nice to meet you, dear. Please call me Edna.”

  Jen shoved the iced-tea pitcher into Kade’s hands and grabbed a stack of glasses from a cupboard. She cradled them in one arm and offered the other to her grandmother, who walked with Jen into the family room. Jen turned and mouthed something to Doreen as they left the kitchen, and Kade noticed she carried four glasses. Jen indicated for Kade to take them while she helped Nana sit in her armchair. She didn’t allow much time to lapse before picking up the conversation again, and Kade wondered not only whether she was attempting to keep Edna on track, but if such a try was typically successful.

  “Kade and I work together occasionally, Nana,” Jen said as she poured.

  “Is that what they call it now?” Edna asked.

  “Call what?”

  “Hanky-panky.”

  “Nana!” Jen blushed.

  “I wondered if it’s a euphemism.” To Kade she said, “My Jennifer likes women, you see.”

  “Nana, stop.” Jen’s expression was one of embarrassment and amusement, as if she were pleased for her grandmother’s teasing even if she wished for a different subject.

  “It’s no wonder a pretty woman like you caught her attention.”

  Jen looked at Kade with laughter in her eyes as she handed her a glass. “I am so sorry.” To Nana, she said, “No euphemism. We really do work together. She’s my boss, actually.”

  Edna made a face of distaste and motioned with her hand as if shooing away something unappealing. “Eh. Computers.” She turned to Kade. “You’re not here to talk computers, are you?”

  Kade felt the edges of her mouth swing upward. “No, ma’am.”

  “Took some getting used to, Jen with girls. But she’s known since she was five.” Nana gave Kade a thorough once-over. “What are your intentions with my granddaughter?”

  “Nana! We’re not…” Jen made a little whimper and gave Kade a beseeching look as she sat next to her on the couch.

  “I intend to learn from her.” Kade flicked her eyes to Jen. “She’s a ‘go with it’ kind of gal, whereas I tend to be more uptight.”

  Nana settled her gaze on Jen, full of affection. “We can all learn from this one. Wears her heart on her sleeve, like her father. Life is too short to hold ourselves back from those we care about.”

  Jen must get her openness from her grandmother, Kade thought. Assuming Edna was a typical Spencer, she envied this side of Jen’s family. They reminded her of the Kellers, people who seemed thankful for each day they were given with loved ones and weren’t afraid to say so.

  Jen returned her grandmother’s smile. “I have you to thank for a father who’s in touch with his emotional side. How is Dad? I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

  Moments passed in silence while Nana’s expression turned contemplative, as if she seemed unsure of the answer. “I don’t know,” Nana said vaguely.

  Kade caught the quick flash of Jen’s eyes in her direction. Whether it was an acknowledgment that Nana wasn’t clear on details or that Kade should speak, she didn’t know, but it might be both. Kade wasn’t sure if Edna was having a bad day or if her memory loss was routine, but she remembered the few pointers Jen had given her and decided to try shifting the conversation to an earlier time period, hoping it would cause Edna less confusion. She pointed over her shoulder to a photograph on the wall. “Do you mind if I take a closer look at that picture? What a gorgeous steam locomotive.”

  Edna followed the direction of Kade’s attention. “Not at all. Please. That was taken during the first real vacation Ben and I took together after we had Joseph. Ben was a circus fanatic as well as a train buff, so we left Joseph with my parents and went to Milwaukee for the Great Circus Parade. That was us posing in front of the train that hauled the circus-parade wagons.”

  Standing in front of the photo, Kade said, “That’s engine number 4960. Built in 1923.” She turned to Edna. “Did you know the 4960 is still being used today?”

  Edna’s face lit up. “Oh, Ben would be so happy.
Are you an antique-train devotee as well?”

  “No, but my father is. He had a number of favorites he taught me about when I was little, and this beauty was one of them.” She returned to her seat. “Would you mind telling me about the parade and your vacation?”

  Edna waved her hand as if slighting the events. “I don’t want to bore you with an old woman’s memories.”

  Jen perked up. “Nana, please,” she said enthusiastically. “We’d love to hear about it. I don’t remember this story.”

  Contentment saturated Nana’s features as she settled in to tell them some of her history.

  Following lunch and multiple stories from Edna involving circuses and steam trains, they returned to the car. Jen handed Kade the keys and slipped into the passenger seat. After Kade started the engine and pulled onto the street, Jen said, “Thanks for turning our visit into one of the best I’ve had lately, and please don’t take offense that she obviously couldn’t keep track of who you are and how we know each other. She loved you. She simply glowed today because of you.”

  “She’s a pistol. I’m not at all offended. It’s not as though she’s doing it on purpose.”

  “True, but you’d be surprised how easy it can be to forget it’s the disease and not the person. She can get angry and frustrated and lash out, and I have to do my best to keep calm and root out the cause, which is often pain. Thankfully not only is she generally mild-mannered, but also I’m getting better at recognizing when something’s wrong. When she falls, for example, believe it or not, a UTI is usually behind it.” Jen paused and glanced at Kade. “Sorry. TMI.”

  “I’m sure it’s been difficult to find ways to keep her in her home. I don’t know how you do it, with such a demanding job.” Something occurred to Kade she hadn’t considered before meeting Edna. “Can I ask a question and have you not get mad at me?”

  “Normally not, but you get a free pass because of today. Shoot.”

  “When you’ve said ‘something’s come up,’ is Edna, or caring for Edna, the something?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kade could see Jen’s jaw clench, the hesitation itself answering the question. With the level of involvement Jen was clearly providing her grandmother, Kade could think of no competing alternative. Kade heard Jen release a heavy sigh.

  “Off the record?” Jen asked.

  “Your silence has already answered. Jen, why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I…” Jen didn’t say any more.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”

  “Kade.” Again nothing followed. Silence stretched between them.

  “Does your team know?” Kade finally asked.

  “Yes. Jeremy’s known all along. It’s been helpful in recruiting. We find that sharing my experience helps us close our top candidates since most employees join because of our mission. Plus, on the odd times I have to leave, I’m pretty up-front with my whereabouts because I don’t want them thinking I’m running out to play golf or something while they’re pulling sixty-hour weeks. They know I’ll be back online as soon as I can. You have to understand these people see me every day. They know how hard I work. They’re not going to question my loyalty to the company or my priorities.”

  Unlike you.

  Jen hadn’t said it, but the implication was clear.

  More miles passed without a word.

  Kade felt stomach-punched. Was she so hard-nosed and inflexible she couldn’t understand that caring for a family member took precedence over everything? She swallowed. Maybe Jen wasn’t throwing punches. Maybe the ache in her gut was from the voice inside her head that said Jen hadn’t told her because she might not have accepted the excuse and possibly even retorted that better planning would have obviated the need for Jen to bow out.

  With Kade having practically run from her father’s room after mere moments, the way the morning had played out was stark commentary on exactly how receptive Jen would think Kade would likely be when it came to caring for her grandmother. As deeply as Jen’s judgment cut, Kade couldn’t deny it was born of experience. It was hard to admit Jen had viable reasons for her vagueness about her no-shows.

  Kade pulled into Jen’s driveway and set the car in Park.

  Jen spoke first. “Please don’t take my not telling you personally. I would have said the same thing to Charles or anyone else on the board.”

  Great. She was interchangeable with everyone else in Jen’s estimation. She took a deep breath and shifted in her seat to face Jen. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

  “You haven’t. I didn’t give you a chance.”

  Kade shook her head. Nothing she could say would change why Jen made the decision to be opaque with her excuses.

  Jen took her hand. “Don’t blame yourself. Please. You need to worry about you. Dealing with Nana’s care hasn’t been easy, but I’m an old hand at it, and she and I are close. This stuff with your father? While I do think you should consider spending time with him, it can’t be at your emotional expense. Promise you’ll focus on you and what you need.”

  My MO, Kade barely refrained from saying. She put the car in reverse, needing to leave before she heard more requests from Jen to look after herself. Jen was always thinking of others. Gordon would be in good hands if Jen were his daughter. “Thanks again for today.” She briefly touched Jen’s thigh. “You being there made a difference.” As she watched Jen head inside, she had the feeling Jen could make a difference to her in all the ways that mattered. She amended the thought. Jen will make the difference to someone. Some incredibly lucky woman.

  * * *

  Before Kade could sit at her desk, Holly was already rapping on her doorframe and shutting the door behind her.

  “How is he? How are you?” Holly asked as she took a seat in front of Kade’s desk. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Kade took a deep breath and looked at her. “I didn’t stick around long enough to talk to him.”

  “It couldn’t have been easy.”

  “I couldn’t reconcile the man I’ve been so angry with all these years with the fragile one staring at the wall. I didn’t want to feel sorry for him. I don’t want to admit that to you, but it’s the truth.”

  “You know I could never blame you for having conflicting feelings about him after how he treated you.”

  “Well, it’s bound to get more conflicting. I need you to research skilled-nursing facilities around here.” She shook her head and raised a palm to ward off any misguided praise. “Don’t. It’s a reflection on how bad his current place is and on Jen for pointing it out, not on me as some do-gooder. Also, I need you to bring your PI skills to bear on Jen’s grandmother, Edna Spencer. I’ll send you her address. Late husband Ben, son Joseph, goes by Joe. Find out her closest lifelong friends and where they live. Start with Joe for his buy-in and consent, telling him it’s part of a Creative Care board initiative or something, and ask for names of Edna’s friends. See if we can get one or more of them to visit, on my dime. Find out what kinds of outings they’d enjoy. If transportation’s an issue, book a car and driver. All on the down-low, please. I don’t want Jen to have to lift a finger or worry, or know I’m involved.”

  Holly looked up from the notes she was jotting into her tablet. “I was hoping she’s why I didn’t hear from you, versus you having a bitter fight with your dad and being booked for homicide.”

  “You’d have been my one phone call.”

  “What’s the scoop? First, you write her off for bailing on you, and next she’s going with you to visit your dad. Now this kindness toward her grandmother.”

  “If I was kind, I’d have assumed that, when she canceled on me, something major was in play, which was her grandmother’s care.”

  “She could have told you the reason.”

  Kade didn’t bother to respond. “Edna’s a kick. I’d like to do something for her, and I can’t think of anything more beneficial and therapeutic than spending time with a friend.”

  “I’ve
read about programs where volunteers take therapy dogs to visit seniors and hospice patients to improve their quality of life.”

  “Excellent idea. If Joe’s on board, ask if Edna’s fond of dogs.” Holly uncharacteristically bit her bottom lip, as if she were slightly trepidatious. “What?” Kade asked.

  “What about something like that for your father?”

  Jarring memories roared to life for Kade, and she looked away. Their four-year old black Labrador retriever mix, Mittens, a tiny puppy when then seven-year-old Kade named him because of his white paws, had become a bone of contention in the Davenport household after the derailment fiasco. Gordon grew more and more disdainful of the animal, which he had originally brought into their home as a playmate for Kade. When they moved cross-country to settle into the neighborhood where Kade would soon meet Cassie, Gordon had refused to take the dog along. An anguished Kade put up flyers in the neighborhood, and her mom posted a photo and description of Mittens as free to a good home. A young couple responded, wanting a companion for their dog.

  Kade never spoke of Mittens to anyone. Losing him was one in a string of heartbreaks during her youth. Cassie was a balm to her soul throughout that time, never more so than when she so easily and joyfully befriended a despairing little girl who’d recently lost her best friend.

  Her poker face was never firmly in place in Holly’s presence, and the concern she saw in Holly’s eyes signaled she was doing a poor job of concealing the sting of those childhood memories. Knowing her voice would sound like she was chewing gravel, she shook her head. Perhaps refusing to allow a companion animal to visit a patient would be forever negatively etched on Kade’s karma, but at the memory of Mittens’s scared eyes, folded ears, and tucked tail resulting from Gordon’s vitriol, she couldn’t send any defenseless creature his way. In his current state, Gordon was as dangerous as a kitten, but for how long?

  Holly deftly sidestepped. “Since you’re asking about local facilities, are you planning to visit him again?”

  “Jen thinks I should.”

  Holly crossed her arms and huffed. “So much for my estimation of her. She probably thinks children should play ball in the street, too.”